


The Right Moment

by variableIntroversion



Series: After The End Of The World [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Confessions, Dave and Bro kiss yo, Incest, M/M, Matespritship, Moirallegiance, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Sburb, aggressive piling, aka Karkat takes his job as a moirail very seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 13:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21272123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variableIntroversion/pseuds/variableIntroversion
Summary: Of course your hellbrain couldn't latch on to any of the already existing issues of yours. No, it couldn't be insomnia or nightmares or a borderline neurotic disdain for any and all ticking sounds.No, it had to be a fixation on how hot your brother is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nano is here so I'm not as thorough with my editing as normal, so sorry if this reads more poorly than my other works.

Your name is Dave Strider, recently nineteen, relatively recent god of a new universe, and you have a big fucking problem. Your problem is yourself, which isn't exactly anything new. Your own mind has always been your worst enemy, next to an absolutely preposterous number of Jacks, fish Hitler, and one (1) mean green motherfucker. But since all of those have been dealt with, there hasn't been much competition for your hellbrain lately.

And of course your hellbrain couldn't latch on to any of the already existing issues of yours. No, it couldn't be insomnia or nightmares or a borderline neurotic disdain for any and all ticking sounds.

No, it had to be a fixation on how hot your brother is.

And not even the brother you technically only met a few years ago; the one where the Westermarck Effect would be reasonably absent. No, it had to be the brother that raised you. It had to be THAT brother.

The fact that it's any brother is already throwing you for a huge fucking loop. The kind of loop that makes rollercoasters jealous. The kind that'd probably pancake a small child with its G forces, if a rollercoaster were to achieve such a feat. What's throwing you for a serious loop de loop is how hard it is for you to stop thinking about it.

In your defense, Bro doesn't exactly make it easy. The two of you are casual around the apartment, and shirts are a pain in the ass, so you see him in just pants or, painfully often enough, boxers, a lot of the time. Which means you see his bare chest and shoulders when he stretches, and holy fuck you swear he's deliberately flexing sometimes. Weird tentacle gods help you when he waltzes out of the shower in nothing but a towel. If you're lucky. Don't even get you started on when you wander in on him working out. Just...

Ugh. You kind of hate yourself for it. It's a cruel irony that after a lifetime of accidental Freudian slips, you've finally fallen face-first down the incestuous stairs. And those are the one set of stairs nobody's ever warned you about. Probably because nobody thought you'd actually take a nose-dive over the edge. There was a "Caution: Floor Wet" sign and everything.

But here you are, still thinking about Bro exactly not in the way you should be. When you really should be thinking about anything else. Like, say, troll Jack Nicholson and his romantic mishaps. Whee.

"Strider are you even fucking paying attention?!" Or- _or_, maybe the troll Karkat Vantas who's currently shouting in your ear.

"Yeah, totally." You answer, sounding just like a guy who's definitely been paying attention. Karkat gives you a sour look and crosses his arms.

"Really?" Karkat stares at you hard, like he's trying to pick apart your brain with just the sheer force of will and bushy-browed scowling. "Because even I can tell that you've 'totally' been paying attention for about three and a half weeks now."

"Whoa wait, you've been keeping track? Who's the Time guy here, Vantas? You need to step off my job." Your attempt at derailing him fails spectacularly, because instead of distracting Karkat, you realize too late that in a roundabout way, you've confirmed that something's wrong. And now you have crossed arms and an unimpressed glare leveled your way.

"Yeah, well, it's _my_ job as your- moirail to notice when something's off! And something's been _very_ off with you for almost a month. So spill it, Strider, or I swear to gog or the eldritch nightmarebeasts in the sky or whatever that I'll pin you to a pile and keep you there until you tell me what's wrong!"

You make a concerted effort not to blush like a gog-damn anime chick when Karkat actually acknowledges the...thing between you two, even though he's definitely blushing and it's making you feel unreasonably affectionate towards the guy. It's seriously not fair that him shouting at you can make you soften up. Maybe it's just the blatant, aggressive way he shows concern. Like, Bro is great and all, don't get you wrong, but before you won the game, he wasn't exactly that expressive about how much he cared about you. Even if you sorta knew it, having someone practically announcing that they care about you is...nice.

But that doesn't mean you aren't gonna be a shit about this and lower your shades enough to waggle your eyebrows at Karkat. "Promise?"

For a moment, it looks like he might just combust from the sheer force of his frustration. But then he throws his hands up with a frustrated groan-growl, and the next thing you know he's snatching up every pillow and blanket within reach to start building an actual fucking pile. You could do any number of things here: escape, help, disassemble the pile as he makes it, try to calm him down and do that horn-rubby thing where he practically turns into goop before he remembers to talk to you about your feelings.

But in the end, you just sit right where you are and watch with as stoic a face as possible, not even letting the expression slip when Karkat grabs your arm and bodily drags you onto his freshly-made pile. He grunts and puffs, grumbling heatedly under his breath about how heavy you are, and you deliberately don't move a muscle so he has to do all the work.

Still, you end up draped against the pile, and he winds up laid down right next to you, giving you that "I'm concerned" sort of scrutinizing scowl. He reaches for your shoulder first, like always, because touching your head off the bat freaks you out and grabbing your hand makes you tense. For how forceful he was with getting you here, his hand is gentle where it rubs circles through your shirt, and his voice has finally gone from a shout to a persistent, demanding murmur.

"Now tell me what's bothering you, shit stain."

The contrast between gentleness and insult almost pulls a smile onto your face. If you were any more relaxed, it probably would have. You aren't that relaxed, though, and now you have to decide if you want to actually admit it, or if you want to figure out a decent excuse. Not like Karkat'll probably believe any bullshit you spew, but you could at least avoid the shame of admitting that you want your own brother.

...Then again, it would be kind of nice to get it off your chest to someone, and despite how much of a loudmouth he is, you know Vantas is good at keeping secrets. Trolls don't even have anything against incest, right? So he won't just get disgusted at you or anything. You hope. He wouldn't, right? No, that would be stupid.

This whole situation is stupid.

"So, this doesn't leave the pile." You start, then immediately wind up chewing your lip until you taste copper instead of continuing that thought. Karkat nods, encouraging, and lets out a little huff.

"When does it ever?"

"Mm. So like..." You know you've actually drawn blood when Karkat's eyes flick down to your lip and he frowns. You lick away the red trickle and force yourself to stop, less because it hurts and more because you don't want him to get upset. "...I think I want to kiss Bro. Or something..."

Karkat blinks, just once and very deliberately, and you wish you could roll over and bury your face in the blanket pile. Maybe suffocate a little. That's the first time you've said it out loud, or really admitted it externally in any way. Your face feels hot with embarrassment and shame, and you know you're getting tense because you can feel the way Karkat's hand seems to instinctively start rubbing harder at your shoulder.

"So what you're saying is the whole reason you've been quiet and moping for a month is because you have flushed feelings for your- brother?" He frowns, just a bit, and you can't tell if it's because he thinks you're incredibly stupid, or if he's just making sure he used the right term. Either way, you nod more timidly than you'd like to admit, and he regards you with a long, hard stare. "Okay. I know that humans have...different opinions on attraction to hatchmates or ancestors or whatever, so just. Tell me what about it is bothering you so much?"

He doesn't mind it. He doesn't even understand it, of course, and that just makes a little sigh of relief slip out of you. Still, actually wording this is gonna be a pain in the ass.

"It's just weird, man. Humans don't do the incest thing, it's creepy and messed up."

Karkat is frowning pensively, but he has that sort of disbelieving edge to it that he always gets when you say something that doesn't really translate.

"Why the fuck is it 'messed up'? Objectively, it seems _likely_ that you would wind up flushed for him. You both have a long-standing, trusting relationship with a greater understanding of each other than anyone else could ever have. And now you're both adults, so that isn't the issue. And since you're a god who literally helped _make_ this universe, you can make the rules. You don't even have to worried about genetic mishaps, if my thankfully meager understanding of human reproduction has anything to say about it. Is there something I'm missing here?"

The hand rubbing your shoulder has traveled slowly to the back of your head. You can feel Karkat's fingers running over the short hairs and draining the tension out of you in tandem with his rambling. He's got some good points, at least, but he's not exactly giving you any mind-blowing revelations.

"Yeah but like...even then, that doesn't mean _he_ won't get weirded out by it. Humans have this thing where usually if you're raised by someone or raise someone through the first six or seven years of their life, you can't get attracted to them. Even if it missed me spectacularly, Bro's probably hella uninterested." You sigh like the dramatic bitch that you are and finally give in to your urge to roll face-down against the pillows. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll smother yourself and die justly. "I'd rather not permanently fuck up our relationship, thanks."

"That seems pretty fucking unlikely. I mean, I guess I can see where you're coming from, if incest is as taboo for humans as you make it out to be. But it's obvious to anyone with or without working ganderbulbs that your bro cares a shit ton about you, whether he's flushed for you or not. Even if you try for a matespritship and he doesn't reciprocate, I sincerely fucking doubt you can't patch things up with some serious discussion and time."

Karkat's hands have both made a home in your hair at this point, combing through it dutifully as he talks. You're secretly pretty satisfied that they don't leave when you turn your head to get in a breath and answer. Even if you never admit how much you maybe definitely like it when he pets you.

"Okay first off, did you just time pun me." Judging on the heated_ "fuck"_ Karkat breathes out, you're gonna guess that's a 'no'. "And secondly have you met us Striders. We don't talk about emotions and shit. We missed school the day they were teaching how not to be a stone cold reticent motherfucker. Pretty sure Dirk and Bro never even went to school, actually. Not that they need to, they're both practically Einsteins. They'd eat the system for breakfast an-"

"Clearly you missed the day on how to shut the fuck up for a minute, too." He cuts in, papping your head with the sort of calm impatience that reminds you of a very tired mother at three AM trying to make her baby stop crying for the third night in a row. Except he's looking at you like you're an idiot again, and there's nothing maternal about the expression. "Whether you like it or not, you might have to do the unthinkable and make an exception if you want to have any sort of healthy relationship with your brother."

A reflexively stubborn part of you wants to make a joke or brush him off, but you know he's right. He's unfortunately right about most things when it comes to relationship shit. Probably thanks to his classpect, or maybe it's just the ridiculous number of romcoms he's watched. Either way, he's right, and you know you he's right, and you especially know that you're not going to get anywhere by ignoring his advice.

"...Fine. I'll go for it when a good opportunity presents itself. Preferably on a silver fucking platter so I'm less likely to fuck it all up."

"You're not going to fuck it up, you obtuse dunderfuck. Either he's flushed for you too, or you have to go through the absolute horror of having a serious emotional conversation with somebody other than me." Karkat leans over to gently head-butt you for a moment. You roll your eyes lightly behind your shades, even if he can't tell, and indulge him by returning the gesture.

"That's a tall order, I hope you know. Hercules can take his ten labors and shove them, that shit's child's play. Kill the hydra? Yeah, right, try emotional vulnerability with a top-tier master of irony."

"It's a daily struggle." Karkat interrupts flatly. You start and stop your answer a couple times before settling into a pout.

"That was the most backhanded but flattering compliment I've ever received in my gog-damn life."

"That was a blatant insult delivered with devastating talent, thank you very fucking much." Karkat sniffs self-importantly as he wriggles closer to you. You feel his hands on your shoulder blades for a warning moment before he wraps his arms around you properly. You crack the first smile in what feels like forever and copy him. He fits under your chin just right.

"Consider me devastated. Totally ruined. I'll have to move to the mountains and live as a hermit in shame." He snorts derisively at you, but this close, you can feel the little shakes in his chest from muffled chuckling.

"Serves you right, nook-sniffer. I'm banishing you to the fringes of society. People will be weeping in the streets with relief. Flowers will be tossed to my feet in gratitude of my heroic deeds." Even as he says it, you can feel Karkat's hand soothing through your hair in promise that nothing he says is serious. You already know, but you appreciate it anyways.

"With any luck, it'll become a holiday and a few years down the line, people will appreciate you as the guy who got them out of work and school for a day."

"They fucking better."

Things get comfortably quiet between you, for a minute. You're perfectly fine just lying there and fiddling with the collar of his shirt, letting your mind drift into blissful blankness while Karkat's hand provides a bit of soothing sensory white noise. It's calming enough that you barely notice when he speaks again, and when he does, you don't tense up nearly as much as you would have at the start of all this.

"Pester me, when you do talk to him." He says it gently, though you know it's really a caring demand. You nod slightly enough that his fingers barely tug at your hair.

"Yeah, alright."

He lets out a satisfied grumble and paps you again, clearly done with the conversation. Fine by you, because you're frankly pretty ready to forget about it for a few hours. You can think on how to approach Bro after you enjoy a good pile snooze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Throws confetti in the air* I have no idea how to write Karkat well!


	2. Chapter 2

The thing about trying to get with Bro is, there doesn't ever seem to be a right moment for it. Every time you think _"maybe now"_, the moment passes or you lose your nerve, and you're right back to square one. It's an obnoxiously repetitive cycle of psyching yourself up, waiting too long, then psyching yourself out of it, and repeat.

It doesn't help that you have no idea if it'll go over well. You've been watching Bro as closely as you can without getting caught (you assume he hasn't noticed, or he'd have called you on it by now), trying to see if maybe he's into you too. But the man's given you zilch to go off of. Sure, he's affectionate, and that's awesome, but there's no telling if that affection is strictly brotherly. He doesn't give any outwards reactions when you go shirtless, or take a page out of his "accidentally torture your brother" book by leaving the shower with your towel hanging lower than usual. Maybe the tiniest glances before he looks away, but that's it. 

Now that you've committed to telling him (sort of), you can't get it out of your head. And since you can't get it out of your head, you can't make yourself relax. It feels like you're constantly sitting on the edge of a wall, teetering with the slightest breeze caused by Bro's presence, and the only options are to fall onto a pile of pillows or crack your head open on concrete.

Karkat insists that you're dramatizing things. And duh, you're a drama queen of the highest standard, but you're also correctly dramatic about how badly this could fuck things up between you and Bro. He'd probably want to avoid touching you and maybe spend less time together, and conversation would be weird and just. Fuck, that would kill you inside. 

What's worse is you feel like even if you don't act on it, you're still making things weird. Like right now. Right now shouldn't be weird, you're just chilling out and watching some Carapacian comedy with Bro. Casually cuddling him. As dudes do. Just snuggled right in there, totally cool and not thinking about whether or not you should try kissing him during a romance scene.

You know, for the cliche irony points that would rack up. 

It couldn't be the worst option, right?

Unless it ruins everything, in which case any option in which you kiss your brother is the worst option.

You twist your shirt in your hands until it just might tear and try to psyche yourself up. You try to distract yourself and imagine a mini Karkat on your shoulder, shouting about how you just need to man up and stop thinking about it so hard. It'll be fine, Strider, just fucking kiss him already.

Come on.

Come on, you romantically constipated asshole, just-

"Alright, what's eatin' ya?" If anyone asks, you will absolutely insist that you didn't jump at Bro's voice. You glance up and find him staring right back. Two layers of tinted plastic cannot convince you that he's not making eye contact, and every scrap of courage abandons you on the spot.

"Nothing's eating me. I mean other than Nakodiles, those made a pretty concerted effort, but even then they didn't really get far with that. I mean getting me in the pot was a pretty decent effort but they let me just walk right out like the pea-brained idiots that they are. I don't even know where they got water for that shit, honestly, where the fuck did they get a cauldron full of water on LOHAC? That's the biggest mystery of the whole gog-damn game right there." 

Bro's stone-faced through your word-vomiting, which trickles off pretty pathetically when you realize that he's not going to be deterred that easily. Not that he usually is when he's serious, and apparently this is a Serious Bro situation. Which means, in the fewest words possible, that you're fucked.

"Somethin's been bothering you for a while now, and you clearly ain't gonna spit it out on your own. So we aren't leaving this couch 'til you tell me what's wrong." 

Geez, what's with guys trapping you into talking about feelings lately? Is there some kind of guide out there for how to make Dave Strider spill his guts? Wow don't think about spilling guts. Actually try not to think about feelings, either, or the fact that apparently it's time to confront them, ready or not, Bro's got a grip on your shoulder and you really aren't going anywhere. What you wouldn't give to do the Void-y thing Roxy does and just nope out of here. Man you wish you could disappear into thin air like they do, that'd be really great right about now.

But no, you're stuck here, staring at Bro and trying to keep your cool. He's staring back like a living statue, waiting, and ready to wait for a very long time. Indefinitely, probably, even if you could probably outlast him for now. Not in the long-term, though. Definitely not that. Nope, you have to face this now. You have to do this, you have to make it happen, but _fuck you are not ready_. You didn't want to do it like this, you didn't want to be rushed, but now you have to man up and just-

Fucking-

Kiss him, because your panicking brain decided that the "rip off the band-aid" method was a good idea. Because if there was ever a time to shoot your shot, now is apparently it. So now you have your lips on Bro's lips. Bro's very still, unresponsive lips. He isn't kissing back. He isn't kissing back and it feels like your world is ending for a second time when he pulls back.

It takes everything in you not to flinch back and abscond to the other side of the planet when Bro reaches for your shades, but you force yourself to hold still and let him slide them off. His go right alongside yours, both set with care on the coffee table. You feel sick, being left even more vulnerable without that little barrier. Knowing that you're a completely open book now, not even fine print. Bro can definitely see how scared you are, when he looks back to you. He must, you think, because his voice is a lot softer than you thought it'd be.

"Are you sure?"

What the ever loving fuck does that mean? Is that a challenge? Is he giving you an out? One last chance to cite irony or an excuse or just apologize and swear it off? Is it a warning? Answer wrong and everything's over?

"Are you sure you want this." Bro reiterates, placing a surprisingly gentle hand against your cheek. That is...not the kind of gesture somebody gives when they're about to kick your ass.

Whether it's false hope or real hope, or just the nerves leaking out, you can't help a small, hysterical laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, pretty fucking sure." You might have just dug your own grave. Or planted your bed of roses. Bro doesn't tell you which quickly. He nods once, slow and contemplatively. You have no idea what's going on in his head, as he stares at you. Seconds tick by as he thinks. Thinking about rejecting you? Reciprocating? 

Without any fanfare, Bro leans in again, and the next thing you know his lips are on yours. You practically melt into it. It feels like every bone in your body's turned to Jell-o with relief. It feels...pretty fucking amazing, actually, and all of that panic is shifting into excitement. You're kissing Bro. You, Dave Strider, are kissing your brother, and he's kissing you back.

You could not be happier.

The kiss stays surprisingly innocent, aside from the whole incest thing. You aren't sure what you expected from Bro if you got this far, but something soft and sweet wasn't it. It's kind of nice, honestly. Your head's spinning enough as it is, you aren't sure you could really keep up if things moved much faster.

When you two finally break apart, you're for once completely at a loss for what to say. What do you say after something like that? Are you meant to say anything after that? You didn't have this problem with Terezi, and that's about the grand scope of your kissing experience right there.

Bro, luckily, seems just fine with leaning back and tugging you against his side, so you're right back where you were before that heart-stopping intermission. You settle against him and try to tune back in to the movie, but that's easier said than done. Thoughts are bouncing around your head like an intense game of pinball. You did it. You kissed Bro and he kissed you and he's fine with it. You think. You hope? He wouldn't fake something like that, right? 

You should know him better than this. Don't you? Well, no, not really, even if it feels like you should. Sometimes it feels like those three years left a blank that you still haven't completely filled in yet.

Either way, the atmosphere feels different now. A bit more tense, a bit more awkward. You're free of the gut-wrenching nerves, but do you stop worrying completely? Fuck no. So of course you're going to blurt things out, like an idiot.

"So are you cool with this? Like, do you actually want this and all?" Stupid, stupid, stupid. You remember again that your shades are off right now, which means that Bro can see how worried you are when he glances down at you. You keep your eyes straight forward and try to make a play at a poker face. 

That resolve goes right out the window when you feel Bro taking a deep breath, then actually hear him sigh. You watch maybe a little wide-eyed, and you're treated to a look of trepidation back.

"Yeah, probably more than I should." 

"So you've wanted it too? For a while or something?" You never thought Bro could pull off the guilty dog look, but you get a glimpse of it before he's nodding and reeling it back.

"Wasn't gonna act on it, or ever let on. But since ya wanted it too..." 

"Definitely. Yeah, definitely, if you're good with it." 

"Good..." Bro nods, and for a moment, you're worried the awkward silence is going to come back. Then the sly bastard smirks at you. "Then ya better get ready, lil' man. Prepare your ass to be wooed." That startles an amused snort out of you. You're quick to play along with it, resting the back of your wrist against your forehead as you tip dramatically into Bro's lap.

"Oh, Mr. Strider, go easy on me. I _am_ a delicate southern Belle, after all." 

"Don't worry, I'll treat ya real sweet. Chocolates. Roses. The whole shebang." The corners of Bro's lips are twitching up, and you're not doing much better. You're both doing a damn good job of keeping straight faces, but there's only so long you can spend looking into each other's eyes after a joke like that before you both break.

Your amused huff mingles with Bro's. He might be laughing a little, in that really quiet breathy way of his. All of the earlier tension feels like it was never here, and when you settle back down to keep watching the movie, you're honestly comfortable again. There's a dramatic kissing scene close to the end, and you take full advantage of it to peck the corner of Bro's lips. The laugh that gets you sounds really damn nice.

"Cheesy lil' shit." He mutters. His smile offsets the insult entirely.

"It's for the irony, Bro. The irony." 

"Sure, sure." You can see him roll his eyes at you, but his arm tightens around your shoulders. The big sap. 

As the end credits start rolling, you finally slip your shades back on with one express purpose.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 23:09 --

TG: dude guess who just got hitched


End file.
